The Prancing Pony 3
by Hamfast Gamgee
Summary: Or the Further adventures of Tom Bombadil.  Just a light-hearted look at how some characters would react to their treatment in the films.  Please R@R thanks, Ham.


The Prancing Pony 3 or The further adventures of Tom Bombadil

Just a light-hearted look at how some of the characters might have reacted to their treatment in the movies. AU I suppose and I apologize in advance for some of the worst poetry of all-time, I admit it. Thanks to my Beata, Iggy, and I hope that any reader enjoys this, please read and review thanks, Ham!

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The Prancing Pony 3 or The further adventures of Tom Bombadil

A watcher on the road might not have seen much. The young gate keeper was bored, as not that many folk came this way at this time. 'Not much happening and its cold, any chance of a smoke?' he thought. But as he lit a pipe and smoke flew around his face he heard someone in the cold evening, singing in a pleasant and cheery voice:

The day is cold, the weather is clear  
>I'll warm my soul with tasty beer<br>Oh trally, trooly lo lo lolly  
>My ale is waiting at the Pony<p>

Up the hill strode an extraordinary figure. Fairly short, red-faced, and a little tubby, wearing yellow trousers, a green hood, and laughing a hearty laugh in his usual manner.

Oh, Fred put your frown away  
>You'll have your penny from me today!<p>

'Fair enough, but you could have just paid the toll,' Fred muttered as he let the person through. He accepted Tom Bombadil's penny then turned to him and said, 'Oh, Tom, we've been watching these great films by one Peter Jackson. Have you seen them?' To Fred's surprise, Tom's cheerful face saddened and he almost frowned.

'Argh, you had to say the one thing that could make me feel sad!'

'He left you a little tab at the bar,' Fred grinned.

Bombadil wasn't impressed. 'Cuts me out of his movies, gives my lines to the one person in Middle-earth that claims to be older than me, then thinks he can make up for that by buying me ale. Hmph!' However, Tom gave Fred a cheery wave and strode briskly on to the Prancing Pony inn. The inn was fairly quiet and nearly empty on a Tuesday night. It had a window open, and the air was clear and fresh. A few patrons were at the bar and some waved at Tom, who waved back and sang:

Greetings friends and tra-la-la  
>Barman, serve me my ale from the bar<br>You know what I like and I like what you've got  
>Unless, once again, you have forgot!<p>

'Tom, you're slipping. That rhyme was appalling and your singing was way off-key. I'm not even going to mention the less-than-classical quality of your poetry, and could perhaps give us some emotion other than pure jollity? Your beer is free!' replied Butterbur, who on this occasion could give Simon Cowell a run for his money. But then he paused and looked at Bombadil with a little frown on his red face. 'What was your ale again?'

'And your memory is still terrible! Mugwort Pride, please. Still cut out, wasn't I?' muttered Tom resentfully. 'And as far as my singing goes, I didn't think that was too bad. Not for a little bit of off the cuff improvising. The hobbits liked it!' Bombadil waved his hand at one or two of the smaller, furry-footed folk who were smiling from a corner of the inn.

'They would!' Butterbur thought, his tastes a tad more sophisticated than those of the hobbits the men shared their town with. He sniffed as he served Bombadil a pint of frothy and tempting ale. 'My part wasn't that much better' he complained. 'I was barely in it. Not even added to in the EE's. The emotional importance of my relationship with Gandalf and my role with the letter just about ruined. I could have been anyone. Just because PJ "wanted to increase the pace!" Bah! Oh, hold on, I just need to see to some Onion and Beef Pie.'

As he exited, Tom was addressed by a gentleman sitting beside him.

'These pork chippings are excellent, try some!' offered Halbarad, a long-haired Ranger sitting at the bar.

'Thanks,' replied Tom, who knew that Butterbur prepared a lot of the food personally and had much talent in that area. Aided by his wife, and Bob the hobbit, his dedication to his cooking possibly explained his lack of attention to many other matters, that and the fact that he ran a busy inn. These musings were cut short as Tom's attention was taken by one Bill Ferny. This gave him a little pause for thought.

'Evening!' nodded Ferny but Tom wasn't impressed.

_'Nasty piece of work!_' he thought. 'And what has Ferny been up to?' he asked Halbarad.

'Oh, he applied for the post of a border guard!'

'What? Ferny?' Tom nearly spilled his ale in shock at this prospect. 'Why?'

'Well, according to him, and I quote, "So I can get at some Hobbits from the Shire and give them a hard kick!'"

'Didn't get it, did he?'

'No, Tom,' answered Nob, a little hobbit at the bar clad in brown trousers and red shirt. 'Even our Town Council aren't stupid. Mrs. Bottles, one of the councilors, had quite a bit to say against his appointment.' Everyone shook their heads at the possibility of Ferny as a border guard. Tom drank some more ale, nearly finishing it, and munched on some pork chippings.

'What is it with that man? Oh, is your beer free as well, Nob?'

'Drinks are on the house for those of us cut out of the movies,' Nob replied. 'Except Ferny, of course. And being as I was cut out of the movies as well then I might be persuaded to have a pint mid-shift.' He helped himself to an ale and sat down beside Tom. Unless I was one of those hobbits around Frodo, one of those "composite characters", which is stretching things. Not sure about Bob, however! Hmmm, seeing as Bob didn't even get a line in the book I don't think cutting him out counts. But PJ is feeling generous!'

Nob looked towards Halbarad. 'You were cut too, Halbarad. I expect that you are annoyed at that. They missed out on your big, moving moment. What a tragic hero you were.' Somewhat to his surprise, Halbarad didn't seem disappointed to be out of the movies.

In fact Halbarad choked on his beer. 'I don't mind being left out. It was better than what Tollers did to me I must say! "This is an evil door and my death lies before it, but I will dare to pass it nonetheless" my arse!' said Halbarad in a rather undunedainish manner, to the laughter of the other patrons. 'Or rather Barliman's big arse,' he added as Barliman returned (and it must be said he did have a big fat behind). 'Tolkien might have been moving and romantic but he doesn't know me. I wouldn't do it. I mean, I don't mind doing dangerous work for Elessar but I draw the line at certain death.'

'You might have preferred being left in the dustbin but I wanted to be in the movies,' sighed Tom.

'I liked them!' declared Butterbur's wife, Sybil, who had just come out of the kitchen.

'Despite all of the material they cut out?' asked Bombadil in surprise.

'Well, Legolas was nice, and pretty, and had lovely hair I would have liked to stroke,' said Sybil the fangirl.

'Now that's the first time I've ever heard it called that,' said Nob the cheeky hobbit.

'Movies,' sighed Tom again, unable to get over his disappointment, even with the help of free ale. And in fact he was showing a rather sulky and possibly vindictive side to him which any reader might have hitherto been unaware. Well, he couldn't be cheerful and jolly every moment of his waking day now could he? Even he found the movie world exciting.

'Arrr, what movies?' asked Barliman. Everyone groaned at his lack of memory and Tom cuffed him with a bar towel!


End file.
